


dragon's fire

by aizensosuke



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Bickering, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Knights - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aizensosuke/pseuds/aizensosuke
Summary: kuchiki kouga leaves home one day to slay a dragon who has no real desire to fight.





	dragon's fire

Kuchiki Kouga was, perhaps, not in his right mind when he agreed to slay this dragon.

Married life is not what he expects and his father-in-law seems to have decided to think the worst of him no matter what great feats he accomplishes, setting some lofty standard to live up to that Kouga can hardly think about, much less reach. The other members of the noble clan his wife is from seem to like him just fine, but they keep their distance because of her father and Kouga sometimes thinks he could have gone on living in the filth and destitution of poverty because at least no one there looked at each other like they were less. He never  _ asked _ to be born into poverty. Not a single one of them did.

He might have gone mad if the dragon never came, scorching blue flames razing the farmlands to the south and presenting an immediate problem to deal with. They have few options; an offering is out of the question. Ginrei is too attached to his oldest son, the only option they have, so fighting the dragon is the closest answer they have.

No one else wanted to do it. Kouga did not even have to argue the point with anyone. He volunteered, and Ginrei gave way and set him on his way on the back of one of his finer warhorses. Probably he thinks Kouga is not going to return from this, which is why he did not send him on the fastest horse. Better not to lose it if they need it in the future.

Probably, Kouga will not return. Dragons are massive, violent monsters and he imagines this battle may very well end his life. So be it. Dying a warrior’s death is fine with him as long as he takes the dragon with him, and he has every intention of doing that.

Exploring the torched farmlands does not lend him any information about where the dragon has gone, but he supposes that such a large creature could hardly hide in such an empty, burned location. The ground is all ash and soot, stained black. Larger piles of ash reveal where farms have burnt down, where an entire patch of forest was burned. Kouga sighs, leans against the horse’s side and surveys the landscape in annoyance.

Where the hell could that dragon have gotten off to?

There are the mountains, of course, a day’s ride at least and a cave system large enough that there must be some cavern within where the dragon could be resting. He might not have much of a chance otherwise, but he might as well give it a shot. The worst he could be is  _ wrong, _ but eventually the dragon will turn up once more. There are few other places a creature of that size could be without someone noticing.

“Hell,” he murmurs, casting a glance toward the mountains, “let’s go look, then.”

He has to feed the horse and give it an apple before it wants to go anywhere else, but after a few minutes, Kouga has it pointed in what he hopes is the right direction. Not like there are people around he can ask about the dragon considering the casualties.

The mountains are treacherous during the winter but not particularly notable during the spring; Kouga nudges the horse up well-worn paths, scanning the sides of the mountains for anything. He spots one particular opening that stretches higher than any he’s seen and leaves the horse; it’s not going to be able to make the steep climb without a broken leg.

Who cares if it leaves? No one expects him to come home one way or another.

He gets a foothold in the mountainside and climbs upward, his armor heavy on his limbs and his sword a weight at his hip. He wonders if something  _ forged _ in fire can defend against fire breath or if this is a moot point; he wonders if the armor can stand up to claws and teeth or if the dragon will simply crush the armor into his skin, turning it against him.

The cavern is massive when Kouga comes to stand before it, drawing his sword and gripping the hilt in both hands, prepared for battle as he walks toward the darkness. The sunlight only spills so deep inside before it gives way to a faint glow that seems to come from the very walls themselves based on the way Kouga can muffle it with the palm of his hand pressed against the rock. It feels almost warm against his skin.

If he makes it out of this alive, he should take word of this back to the palace. Between slaying a dragon and discovering a new light source, he  _ should _ win the old man’s approval.

The light extends all the way up to the rooftop of the cavern, letting him know just how high it is in comparison to himself. Dragons are supposed to be massive, hulking beasts with impossible wingspans necessary to lift their weight, so they need as much space as possible. Just the same, it seems impossible a creature this size can exist.

The cavern drops into a much larger space and Kouga flattens himself down at the edge of it, dragging himself along the rock so he can peek over the edge without the beast spotting him. Still, the sight of it curled below amidst the stones makes the bottom of his stomach drop.

_ How is anyone supposed to defeat a creature this size without some kind of magic? _

The blue-green glow shining from the walls reflects on the dragon’s gleaming white scales, illuminating the slow rise and fall of its great side which each of its breaths. Piled around it are jewels and gold of all shapes and sizes and Kouga winces at the sight, wondering how many kingdoms this beast must have pillaged before coming to theirs. Wondering how long it was using one of  _ their _ mountains to stash its stolen hoard.

No matter. This would be quite a prize to take home to his kingdom.

The drop into the lower cavern is steep, and it would likely kill him if he tried to jump straight down. He scans the lip for a moment until he sees divots in the stone and decides to risk it, hoping he can be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping dragon.

Kouga has done this before. Enough times so that he lands smoothly on his feet when he reaches the bottom, keeping his sword at the ready as he turns to face the dragon. Up close, the creature is even larger than he imagined from the top view. Its long and serpentine body winds between the piles of gold and jewels and the fangs of stone thrust up from the ground beneath. Its head rests on its front legs, long claws curled against the earth. Starbursts of violet frame its closed eyes, stark against the white.

Its sleeping position is not quite low enough. Striking it on the nose is only likely to irritate it, and climbing up its head to strike between his eyes— If he isn’t fast enough, it’s going to snap him up between its jaws before he has a chance to react properly.

As it turns out, that is hardly the first thing he needs to worry about.

The moment he steps in front of the dragon, its large eyes blink open placidly, a hot exhale of breath through its nose startling a noise out of his throat. The dragon yawns, revealing long white fangs as white as the pearls scattered throughout the gold, the pink of its tongue curling up at the tip before retracting back into its mouth. Before Kouga can even speak, one large paw darts out from beneath its head, catching him in scaled fingers.

His sword glances off of its scales, doing  _ nothing _ to its skin. “Damn it!”

“What are you doing here?” The dragon’s voice is low and deep, the sound of it reverberating along Kouga’s spine as the dragon lifts him slowly, its serpentine body coiling so that it can sit up properly, more a large snake than anything else. “Human? Speak.”

What is he  _ supposed _ to say?  _ I’ve come to defeat you _ sounds laughable in his position.

“You brought a sword.” Words slow and smooth, voice stoic and easy. The dragon knows it has nothing to fear from him. “You must have come to slay me like the others.”

“The others.” Kouga parrots the words back automatically, his gaze darting around the massive room until the dragon turns his body to show him a pile of bones in the corner.

Bones and  _ armor, _ he realizes, and his blood runs cold.

“The others did not succeed in their task, either. You’ve not need to feel inferior.” The dragon huffs softly and Kouga thinks that sounds like  _ laughter, _ which grates on what little patience he has around the slow-creeping curl of terror up his spine. “Humans believe in their weapons and their fighting ability and forget that my sheer size is a factor. Do you think my scales are for aesthetic purposes alone? They are an armor the likes of which yours could never puncture, much less protect you from.”

As if to illustrate his point, the dragon takes Kouga’s sword away between two large claws, warping the blade beyond repair with a flex of its lean muscle. “I see,” he says numbly.

“Will your family miss you terribly when you don’t come home?” The dragon asks him, pinching the edge of Kouga’s breastplate between its massive claws, tearing through the armor like it was mere cotton. “Surely they knew you would not return home.”

“Do any face a dragon and come home?” Kouga asks. He’s  _ tired _ of playing these games.

The dragon hums, and it seems to vibrate the very  _ air _ around them. “Not the others who came here before you. From five different kingdoms, and they all failed.”

“That… Sounds likely.” Kouga shifts slightly in the dragon’s grip. It’s just an edge too tight to be comfortable, as if the dragon knows he would slip away the moment he got a chance and plans on not letting that happen. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

“I could. You’re harmless. It would be simple.” The dragon leans closer to him, nose twitching, powerful hot puffs of breath making Kouga wince. “What is your name, human?”

“Kuchiki Kouga.” The name of a powerful clan, of a foolish warrior sent to his death by the family who would likely never accept him.

“Kuchiki. I know that name.” A claw touches the kenseikan in his hair and he freezes, not keen on having its claw submerged in his skull by mere accident. Dying a warrior’s death is acceptable, but dying from sheer stupidity is not. “The noble family. Men from your clan up north came to defeat me. It took nothing to end their lives. And yet you came alone.”

Kouga shrugs as best he can. “No one else was brave enough to come face you.”

“So you came alone. Admirable.” The dragon’s grip on him loosens, claws slowly spreading so that Kouga finds himself sitting in the palm of the creature’s hand.

This close, it really is impossible to miss how  _ beautiful _ this beast is, murderous craven beast or not. Its eyes remind him of the clear pond in the garden where the koi swim except unfathomably deeper, almost glowing with an inhuman light. The white of its scales have been carefully kept clean, buffed to a high shine and the violet scales ringing its eyes have a pink sheen when it tilts them, reflecting the light coming from the walls. Even its claws, longer than any he has ever seen before, have been sharpened to perfect points.

Dying at the hands of such a radiant creature may not be the worst way to go out.

“Do you have a name?” Kouga asks it, and the dragon’s head tilts to the side, curiosity flashing in its eyes. “If I’m to die here, I’d like to know the name of who killed me.”

“Muramasa.” The dragon seems thoughtful. “The Flame that Whispers Across the Land. A title earned from the East. They were never able to hear me when I came.”

Kouga nods thoughtfully, then pushes himself slowly to his feet. “Well, Muramasa, you’ve won this battle, as pitiful an attempt as it was. You may do your worst and kill me now.”

“Your eyes are very curious.” The dragon leans closer to him, his snout nudging against Kouga’s chest hard enough to knock him back onto his ass. “A finer green than any of my emeralds and yet you seem so resigned to your fate at my claws.”

“I couldn’t beat you if I wanted to. You’re too strong, too powerful. Look.” Kouga waves a hand toward the pile of former warriors and wonders, if he looked, how many kenseikan he would find. The material is made to last for centuries. “And you destroyed my sword. I’m willing to accept death if it comes at the hands of such a powerful creature.”

Muramasa hums and lifts him further and Kouga imagines being snapped between those gleaming fangs— And then yelps when he’s promptly dropped on a pile of gold, sliding down the side of it until he gets his feet underneath him. Above him, Muramasa laughs and then lowers his head back onto his paws, watching Kouga as he pushes himself back up the pile of gold, coins bouncing down onto the floor. It’s not  _ easy, _ sitting on slick metal.

“I have been quite lonely, as you can imagine,” Muramasa tells him, and Kouga just looks at him because what the hell is that supposed to mean? “You are the first human who has come here and accepted your defeat. The first human who has seen more than a monster.”

“What, you’re… Just going to keep me here? Like a pet?” Kouga asks, alarmed.

Muramasa huffs at him. “Do you have a better idea in mind, Kuchiki Kouga? Do you  _ want _ to die? Did you come here seeking death? No. You wouldn’t have brought your sword, then.”

_ Maybe, _ he thinks, but slides down the gold pile after all so he can stand in front of the beast himself. Or, well, his  _ jaw _ and nose because Muramasa is massive, and Kouga could never hope to look him in the eye from his angle. “What if I did come here to die?”

“You came on a bad day.” Muramasa yawns again, and Kouga is blown back against another pile of gold from the force of his exhale. “I’m very tired and have no desire to fight.”

Kouga sighs and sits down, legs crossed beneath him, and stares. “So, what do I do? Sit here until you  _ are _ in the mood to fight? How long is that going to take, exactly?”

“Maybe days. Maybe weeks. Maybe months. If I killed as frequently as you seem to believe, there would be many more bodies on the ground.” Muramasa blinks placidly at him, leaning ever closer to nudge Kouga with the end of his nose. “Until then, you’re free to escape. Or die trying. You can search for weapons in my hoard. I have gold-hilted swords somewhere.”

“What good would it do me if you can twist metal so easily?” Kouga stretches out an uncertain hand, marveling at the way the scales beneath his hand shimmer as he strokes a hand along Muramasa’s broad snout for lack of anything  _ better _ to do.

The scales under his hand shimmer brilliantly and then flare a brighter white than his eyes can stand; he throws his hands up in front of his face to block out the harsh light, hissing when it threatens to burn his vision away. Only when the light fades does he dare to look at all, blinking white stars out of his vision to find that.

That the dragon has disappeared from his sight.

“No.” Kouga rises unsteadily to his feet; his hand still tingles from the feel of the creature’s scales beneath his hand. “Where the hell did he  _ go _ ?”

A soft laugh catches him off-guard and he spins to see a slender figure standing atop the pile of gold at his back. “I am here, Kouga. Surprised?”

“Uh.” Kouga’s neck hurts from craning up so far, so he takes several steps back. “Yes?”

The man leaps nimbly from the top of the pile, landing perfectly on the toes of his boots before he settles onto the soles of his feet. Dark hair frames a face as pale as the dragon’s scales, lean body hidden from view by a long white coat trimmed in violet. The fur around his throat looks soft to the touch and he surveys Kouga with turquoise eyes ringed thickly with violet, a strange aesthetic in a human face.  _ Human, _ but elegant and arrogant, aristocratic almost. Startlingly beautiful, just like the dragon had been.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Kouga blinks at him. “I didn’t realize that you could do that.”

“It is a rare skill even among my kind.” Muramasa stretches a hand toward him— his fingernails are long, reminding Kouga of dragon’s claws— and warm fingertips trace a path along Kouga’s cheek. “Instead of waiting for me to kill you, you should remain my companion. If you have no home to go back to other than a family who would send you to your death, then you have nothing to lose. I could use a companion who does not think me a monster.”

His voice is just as deep as in his dragon form; it vibrates along Kouga’s spine. “Well, I suppose I don’t. I don’t see why not. You really have no plans to kill me?”

“Not at the moment.” Muramasa’s smile is enigmatic but kind. “Unless you force my hand. As I said, I could use a companion. What more do you truly have to lose?”

“I see.” Kouga touches the back of the hand still hovering near his face and thinks that the dragon’s skin is still far too warm in his human form. “All right. I’ll see where it takes me.”

Muramasa’s smile widens. “Wise. Now let me show you around. It’s quite spacious here.”

Against all form of common sense, Kouga cuts the kenseikan out of his hair and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> //shakes fist at anime// that filler was dumb. anyway kougamasa where kouga ISN'T a stupid motherfucker.


End file.
